


Salmon Sandwiches

by sara_merry99



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6519121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_merry99/pseuds/sara_merry99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How was he to know that Hugo was making the sandwiches for him by hand in his own kitchen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salmon Sandwiches

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of the discussion of the episode "Free Willie" over at my livejournal. sassyinkpen and spikedluv fed the strange little bunny early on and betaed for me, in spikedluv's case over and over again. arouette and Catyah both did alpha reads and final post-beta reads (gamma reads?) to help with one last question. Thanks to all of you!

# Salmon Sandwiches

It was embarrassing. That was the best word Fraser could come up with. 

Humiliating was close, but that seemed to imply some culpability on his part that he couldn't quite accept.

Shocked, he thought, after a few more seconds. Shocked was likewise appropriate.

But embarrassing was definitely the best description. He scratched his eyebrow and looked out the window at the passing city. 

Since his arrival in Chicago, he'd been made aware, mostly by Ray, of the flirtations of many women. Elaine Besbris. Ray's own sister Francesca. Nancy Loomis, secretary to the secretary of the Trade Delegate at the Consulate. Those were the ones he could give names to, but Ray assured him that there were many more. He himself had no facility at recognizing the behavior. However, since he also had no interest in pursuing any sort of relationship with any of those women, he found it convenient to use his ignorance as a shield against them. 

Ray had failed to tell him about his flirtation with Hugo, the sandwich machine representative, however. 

His only experience with a sandwich from a vending machine prior to Chicago was a chicken sandwich at the bus station in Moosejaw. How was he to know that the sandwich machine in the Police Station's breakroom didn't routinely stock salmon sandwiches? How was he to know that Hugo was making the sandwiches for him by hand in his own kitchen? Paying for the salmon out of his own pocket. Making them just for Fraser.

He might have been inclined to take Ray to task for failing to warn him of the potential social pitfall, except that it certainly wasn't Ray's duty to do so. 

Fraser adjusted the band of his hat, aware he was fidgeting but grateful to have something to do with his hands, and turned to Ray, who was intent on driving. "Ray, did you happen to catch that man's name?" he asked, referring to the extremely large and extremely angry man who'd just threatened him in the Police Station parking lot. He'd asked the man for his name, before the man had begun shouting at him, while there was still a chance for a peaceful resolution, but had only gotten a growl in answer. Or, perhaps his name was Gregor, heavy on the guttural 'r' sounds. 

"When you asked his name, he started making noises I've only ever heard from the wolf, Benny. I'd have to guess his name is Snarl," Ray responded. Dief yipped in the back seat, protesting the comparison. Ray ignored him and kept his eyes on the road, driving at a sedate speed. 

Glancing at the speedometer to verify that Ray was, in fact, only exceeding the speed limit by five miles per hour, Fraser was surprised that he'd failed to notice how remarkably calm Ray was. He would have expected shouting and waving of arms. Perhaps an elaborately worded "I told you so." Ray had told Fraser not to develop an association with Hugo. And he had been proven right, in a dramatic fashion. 

With a closer look Fraser saw the whiteness of Ray's knuckles, the tense wrinkles in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes, the unusual hardness of his normally full lips. Ah. Fraser scratched his eyebrow again. Yes.

Not that he could blame Ray for his anger. Gregor, or Snarl, had threatened Fraser in the parking lot of the Police Station, in front of rather a large number of witnesses, including, unfortunately, Detectives Huey and Gardino. Threatened him rather explicitly and at extreme volume, in fact. As the culmination of his tirade, Gregor had told Fraser that if he ever fucked Hugo, touched him, hell, if he ever even spoke to Hugo again, his pretty face was going to be smashed into something the consistency of egg salad. 

Fraser had been standing frozen, as though on guard duty, trying to think of a suitable response when Ray'd bundled him and Diefenbaker into the car and driven out of the parking lot with far too much speed for safety. Fraser had allowed himself to be taken away from the scene like a child, surprised beyond protest. Unable to voice the truth, the denial.

At the next light, Fraser turned to face Ray, and asked, feeling more tentative than he allowed his voice to show, "Ray, was that man...?" 

Ray rolled his eyes, reassuring in his familiar exasperation. "Apparently he thinks you're making a move on his boyfriend. No more sandwiches from Henry..."

"Hugo." Fraser regretted the automatic correction when he saw Ray's lips press even more tightly together.

"Hugo, Henry, whatever. His boyfriend's getting jealous." 

"Boyfriend?" Fraser asked, surprised. Of course, he was well aware of the existence of homosexuals. How could he not be? When he was a child, everyone in Inuvik knew that Chunky Bruce and his friend Alex weren't living together just to save on rent. They were decent people, though, good on a curling team, and no one much minded their living, or other, arrangements. Hugo, however, had given him no indication that he was...

Except that he'd brought Fraser salmon sandwiches every day for weeks. He sighed.

He was yanked out of his thoughts by Ray saying, "Yeah, boyfriend. You didn't realize that you and Hugo have been flirting over the salmon salad for the last month, Benny?"

"Actually, Ray, they were croquettes," Fraser said, not even thinking about the words. He was trying to reconstruct anything in his interactions with Hugo that might have constituted flirting. But all he'd done was be friendly and polite and Hugo had responded in kind. In his experience most people did. 

Ray said something rude about salmon croquettes, which Fraser ignored, then, when he'd stopped at another light he got Fraser's attention with a little wave and a concerned look in his hazel eyes. "You mean you really didn't know? I thought you knew you were starting something with the vending machine guy." His voice was challenging, but he also sounded...relieved? 

"I was just being friendly," Fraser said, crossing his arms over his chest. As soon as he was aware of the gesture, of how defensive it made him look, he forced his hands back to his lap. 

"You know his name, Fraser. You're probably the only person in the whole station who knows the vending machine guy's name. Didn't I tell you that this is not important information?"

"As I've explained to you before, his name is on his shirt. A man who wears his name publicly on his clothing should anticipate that people will use it." Fraser gripped his hat hard by the brim to keep his hands in his lap, and said again, "He was just being friendly." 

"That is exactly my point," Ray said, though Fraser hadn't been aware he'd been making one precisely. "He was being too friendly. He brought you tea and sandwiches. That might be normal in Canada, but here in Chicago people aren't nice for no reason. Americans are only nice when they want something. A raise, a favor, sex. Especially sex. Everyone is friendly with you. Elaine, Officer Dobson, that lady in the fuzzy slippers on the first floor of your building. That's the tip of the iceberg. And they all want something." Ray turned to look at him for a moment. "You are friendly to them all in return. You're a bright boy, Benny, you figure out what they're thinking." 

Fraser tugged at his collar, which suddenly seemed too tight for comfort, then said, "That's just silly, Ray. Basic civility is even more essential to harmonious life in a large city than it is in a small town. Surely people here realize that," Fraser said, trying to force conviction into his voice. He would have noticed if he were flirting with all those people, he was certain. He wasn't good at recognizing the behavior in others, but in himself it couldn't escape his attention. Could it? They were being polite and friendly and he was returning the sentiment. It was almost like being back home. "Oh...," he said, softly, and hoped Ray hadn't heard.

His grandmother had warned him just before he left for the Depot about getting small-town friendliness from big city people, that it meant something different from them. He wished he could remember what she'd said. He'd been focused for so many years on remembering his father's various pieces of advice, he'd forgotten hers entirely. He suddenly suspected that hers would have proven the more useful in his new posting.

Uncomfortably aware that he was blushing, Fraser avoided Ray's gaze, which kept flickering to him. From the burning of his cheeks he estimated he was almost as red as his tunic and was, he thought with a mental sigh, now definitely humiliated. The culpability in the situation, both with Gregor and with Hugo, was his after all. Ray said nothing and for that Fraser was grateful.

When the light changed, Ray turned back to his driving and Fraser allowed himself to look at his friend. All of the signs of tension he'd noticed earlier were gone and Ray was smiling, faintly. Ray wasn't the sort to laugh at him, he'd never done so before anyway, so there must be something else in that smile that Fraser didn't quite understand. 

He watched Ray smile for a while longer, enchanted by the curve of it at the corners of his mouth. 

After a moment, Fraser shook out of his reverie and said, "Thank you for clarifying that for me, Ray. I'll have to alter my association with Hugo into a more distinctly casual one. Something that his boyfriend won't object to." He moistened his dry lip and went on, "And something that won't mislead Hugo either. Apparently he has gotten the wrong impression of my interest in him." 

"Good, I'm glad we got that resolved." Ray said, smiling more broadly now. Fraser caught himself smiling in response, unable to resist Ray's newly good spirits. "Are we ready to talk about this case now? Because if you think Fenton's wife killed him, that is information I need to have before we go talk to her." 

Fraser allowed the conversation to turn to their current case, saving the question of Ray's smile for later contemplation.


End file.
